Divine Right
by Flick Fliordan
Summary: The strongest would rule. The Illéas were descendants of Zeus, so no one questioned their right. But unrest is sweeping through the country, and when the gods discover a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Hades hiding in the country, they decide to host a Selection to pick the next king or queen. Now, the worthiest will rule. SYOC Open!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Welcome and thanks for reading! I decided to try a Selection SYOC, and there is also a lot of Percy Jackson influence (with the gods, demigods, the gods' behavior). I'm also taking some creative liberty with some of the mythology so some stories may seem different. Info is on my profile if you want to enter the SYOC!

* * *

The black marble of the Pantheon shone in the morning sun, the light glinting off the gold inlaid into the structure. It was beautiful, an architectural wonder. But all the same, Poseidon hated it.

He spent little time on Olympus if he could avoid it. While they were brothers, few people managed to get under his skin like Zeus. He always found himself much more relaxed and content at sea, even if it meant avoiding his wife.

They had been close once, he, Zeus, and Hades. Zeus used to jokingly call them "the Big Three." But once the Titans were defeated and Zeus was made king of the Olympians, he realized they couldn't be the Big Three, because it suggested, rightfully so, that Poseidon and Hades were as powerful as him.

He tried to constrain his brothers any way he could. He denied Hades a throne on Olympus, to remind him of his place in the Underworld. He chose Poseidon's wife, a thoroughly irritating nereid named Amphitrite. And, while the other Olympians populated Illéa, their preferred country for the last century or so, with demigod children, he made Hades and Poseidon promise they would never father demigods, alleging to promise himself as well.

"We must learn from our mistakes," he had noted, seemingly serious at the time. "Our children are too powerful, too dangerous."

There wasn't anything to be done but agree, so Hades and Poseidon had. Zeus, however, had never been the best at maintaining vows.

The Pantheon was already bustling, as Poseidon was one of the last to arrive. He murmured a few hellos, not interested in making conversation, and took a seat at his throne.

When Zeus finally arrived and greeted them, he announced that Athena had requested their presence that morning and turned the floor to over to her. Poseidon tried not to roll his eyes. He and Athena had never had an easy relationship.

"It has come to my attention," Athena began, her voice even as always and her face unreadable, "that the pact has been broken." She turned her expressionless face towards Poseidon.

His grip tightened around his golden cup, and the lines around his sea-weathered face deepened as he frowned. A hushed whisper erupted amongst the on-lookers, their eyes darting between Poseidon and Zeus. "Do you deny this, Brother?" Zeus asked, his voice booming through the Pantheon.

The brain of a god holds much more than that of a mortal, but for all his thousands of millennia worth of knowledge and thoughts, Poseidon couldn't manage a single response. He desperately needed one though. He needed to protect them.

Zeus took his silence for the admission that it was. His brow was hard, his mouth turned into a displeased frown behind his beard. "Where is the child?" he demanded.

"He's a man now," Athena said. "Or nearly so. Benedict, is it not?" She turned her piercing blue gaze on Poseidon.

The cup crumbled in Poseidon's hand. "That's enough," he declared. "You've made your point, Athena."

"Oh, I quite haven't," she countered. But luckily, her eyes moved away Poseidon.

Hades was largely ignored by the other gods, which made it all the more shocking when Athena's gaze settled on him. "Because he's not the only one who broke the pact, is he, Lord Hades?" she asked.

Hades, throne-less in the Pantheon, dramatically draped himself against the side of Poseidon's chair. The sea god frowned at him and recoiled from the spray of his black robes. "Look, is it really even a pact?" Hades wondered aloud to the crowd. No one responded, which was unsurprising. Hades was not usually the god to throw one's weight behind. "Zeus, Brother, let's be honest: you broke it two weeks after we agreed the three of us wouldn't have demigod children."

Zeus looked indignant. "And my offspring have ruled Illéa dutifully ever since," he declared.

"Debatable," countered Hades. "Aren't things…tense down there?"

Ares nodded, a content smile on his face, which was unsettlingly streaked with blood. "There has been recent conflict."

Zeus groaned. "Over what?" he demanded.

"Something about the castes," shrugged Apollo.

Zeus scoffed. "The castes give them purpose," he insisted. "This is the problem with humans. We give them everything, and they still complain."

"I think the lower castes are suffering," Hestia tried to explain.

Zeus snapped his fingers for another cup of ambrosia. One of Hephaestus' animatronic tables shuffled forward. "That is being human," Zeus shrugged, collecting the drink. "Live, suffer, die."

She was usually quiet in meetings of the gods, choosing to silently observe. But this time, Hera spoke up. "Perhaps Hades and Poseidon's indiscretions have presented us with an opportunity."

There were more whispers amongst the gods. Poseidon's eyes narrowed, already suspicious of his brother's wife. Hera rarely acted unless it benefited her in some way. "How so?" the sea god inquired.

She stood and began to pace the length of the hall, slowly walking behind each gods' thrones. Her steps were so light they couldn't be heard as she moved, the only sound before she spoke that of her gilded robes kissing the golden floor. Some of the lesser gods in the hall seemed uncomfortable when she passed them.

"Illéa is suffering," Hera acknowledged. "While Typhon Illéa was a good king, his offspring are flawed. Their divine blood is weak after all these generations. We picked Typhon, because he was the most powerful demigod at the time. Surely that can't be said for Maximus Illéa, especially now that there is a child of each Poseidon and Hades. Perhaps it is time to give the country to one of them."

There were no whispers this time, only a full scale eruption of godly shouting, led by Zeus himself. Athena slammed the edge of her aegis against the ground, denting the gold and silencing the din. "What do you suggest?" she asked Hera.

"We're no strangers to Selections," Hera noted, turning a charming smile to each of the Olympians.

The Selections had become a form of entertainment for the gods. It gave them a chance to feel important, to sponsor one of their demigod children in a competition to marry into the Illéa family. They looked forward to it every two dozen years or so. Poseidon, who had never had a child to sponsor before, always thought they were a strange type of sport. It was an attempt to keep the Illéa blood strong—marrying the offspring of a demigod to another demigod—but it would never produce a child as strong as the offspring of one of the Big Three.

"Why don't we host a Selection?" she suggested. "We'll send demigods to compete for Maximus, Benedict, and Hades' girl. Whenever they've made their final decision, we'll vote on who has proven themselves worthiest of ruling."

"That's a terrible idea," Zeus countered dismissively. He glared fiercely at his wife and reached for another cup of ambrosia.

"Hold on, Brother," countered Hades, still leaning far too close to Poseidon's for the latter's liking. "Queen Hera's idea has…merit."

"It would make the Selection so much more fun," sighed Aphrodite, her tone dreamy. "Three Selections in one!"

Poseidon considered the proposal. He didn't care about the Selection. But if Ben won, he could be safe.

"I agree with Hades," he declared. The brunt of Zeus' glare fell on him. "It is in the country's best interest."

Emboldened, the other gods began to murmur their agreement. Poseidon saw Zeus's fingers twitch around his master bolt, his anger evident. It was clear that he equated the questioning of the Illéas right to rule as a direct attack on his authority as king of the gods.

But he couldn't fight all of the Olympians, and even Zeus knew that. "Have your stupid Selection," he declared, standing. "My grandchild will win, and I will remember all of you that tried to challenge me." He swept from the Pantheon, his face stormy and his posture angry.

The assembly disbanded shortly after Zeus's departure. Hades lingered and turned to Poseidon. "Who would've thought you a rule breaker?" he chuckled.

"I can't say the same about you," countered Poseidon. He hesitated, hating that he felt the need to explain himself to Hades of all gods. "I didn't intend to," he frowned.

"Oh, I did," Hades replied, a smirk lighting up his face as he revisited the memory.

Poseidon rolled his eyes. "Leave me," he instructed, reaching for another glass of ambrosia.

Hades' previously taunting demeanor disappeared, and if Poseidon were a human, he would have quavered in fear before the god of death. Unlike the other gods, Hades didn't have a home on Olympus. He could be ordered to and from as the gods wished. And having been dismissed, he had to obey.

Of all things, Hades hated obeying most.

Poseidon stared into the fire of a brazier as he thought about Ben. He hadn't seen his son in years—for his own safety. He thought of Ben's mother, Diane. Before her, he had never doubted his divinity, his immortality. After her…

"You seem to have found yourself in a bit of a mess, haven't you?"

Hera stepped into his line of sight. She wasn't as beautiful as Aphrodite, but he had always enjoyed looking at her. Yet this time, he wished she would leave.

"I'm rooting for yours, you know," Hera noted as she took his cup of ambrosia for herself.

"Why would you do that?" Poseidon asked, suspicious.

"I'm not overly fond of my husband's bastard children," Hera pointed out. "I don't particularly revel the idea of installing one of Hades as a ruler, and since I have none myself, that leaves yours."

"Is that why you orchestrated this?" he demanded. He thought perhaps he should be shocked by the depth of her vengeance, but he wasn't.

Hera tossed her brown hair over her shoulder and sat up a little straighter. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, please." Poseidon rolled his eyes. "Athena wouldn't have started sniffing around if you hadn't given her the idea first. She wouldn't care about a few spare demigods, but a pact being broken and going unpunished would offend every sense of justice she has."

"If someone did give her the idea, it was rather ingenious of them," Hera declared with a wry smile.

"All of this to punish Zeus's demigod line?" Poseidon asked.

The queen stood, setting the empty cup on the arm of Poseidon's throne. "I have my reasons," she declared, "just as I'm sure you had yours. Good luck to your son."

He watched her leave the Pantheon before he sighed and dropped his head into his palm. He tried his best to avoid Illéa since Ben's birth, for their own protection. But now, it was time for him to return.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I appreciate everyone's response to last chapter! This is longer because I'm introducing the three main characters. In the future, each chapter will probably be from just one or two of their povs at a time. The form to send a character and available sponsoring gods are on my profile!

* * *

Exhaustion seared through Maximus' body. His muscles burned, his lungs ached, and sweat dripped into his eyes.

But he had to push himself. He needed to be just a little faster, a little stronger. A little more divine.

When he crossed the finish line, he fell into the grass. He squinted as he searched for his sister. "Well?" he asked.

Lyra shrugged as she looked at the stopwatch. "Same as last time."

He groaned. "This is ridiculous," he sighed.

"Yes," agreed Lyra as she joined him. She held a hand out and pulled him to his feet. "It is ridiculous that you're so obsessed with this. Why does it matter how fast you are?"

"Demigods are supposed to have superhuman abilities," he reminded her.

"Yes, but we're not demigods," she countered.

"We are descendants of Zeus," Maximus snapped.

"You're just as crazy as Dad," sighed Lyra.

Maximus glared at her but reasoned that she would never understand. As the future king of Illéa, Maximus constantly felt that the pressure of his ancestors. They were better than him, better than even his father, because they had more divine blood. It made them special, made them worthy of ruling.

Most of the women his grandfathers had married were Aphrodite's demigod children. At a basic level, the Selection was a competition centered around the idea of finding love. Thus, the children of the patron goddess of love did well in such situations.

Maximus could feel the influence of Aphrodite much more strongly than that of Zeus. He'd never had trouble with the opposite sex, and people tended to comment on his charisma. But aside from his last name, there was nothing about him that would give people an inkling that one of his great grandfather's had once been a child of the king of the gods.

It made him feel weak, and he was sure that it had affected his father and grandfather as well. His grandfather had responded by trying to show his power: he tightened restraints on castes, he made sure that laws were strictly enforced. His father, on the other hand, seemed to have internalized whatever feelings of inadequacy that he had. As a child, he had constantly reminded Maximus that they were better than others, even better than actual demigods, because they were royalty. King Augustus surrounded himself with powerful demigods, if nothing other than to remind himself that he had dominion over them regardless of their strength.

But as Maximus grew older, he had begun to notice that some demigods had powers. Some had actually _met _their godly parent. Maximus was pretty sure Zeus barely listened to his prayers, and a member of his family hadn't met the god king in at least three generations.

"You don't understand," he told Lyra dismissively.

And she didn't. His younger sister had always much favored their maternal godly influence.

Before Lyra could reply, a shadow fell over them. Maximus squinted up, annoyed that someone had interrupted brooding.

But when he saw the new arrivals face, both he and Lyra quickly scrambled to their feet. Maximus bowed, while Lyra politely curtsied. "Lord Hermes."

"Maximus Illéa," the trickster god grinned. "You look smaller than the last time I saw you." Anger and disappointment erupted in Maximus's chest. It was the first time he had seen a god in over three years. It wasn't exactly the greeting he was hoping for. "You humans are positively tiny," Hermes added, making Lyra giggle.

Maximus glared at his sister. _Traitor._

"Bring me to your father, Maximus," Hermes instructed. "I'm on official business."

The only person that could possibly instruct Maximus was a god, and as he didn't see them often, he wasn't used to being told what to do. He had to remind himself to obey before his body actually began to move, his jaw clenched so tightly that discomfort began to radiate from it.

When he'd collected his parents, they joined Hermes and Lyra in the throne room. Hermes sat casually in Augustus's throne, telling Lyra a joke that she was clearly eating up.

Augustus bowed before Hermes. Unlike Maximus, he could subjugate himself before the gods easily, because he believed their appearances blessings. Maximus, on the other hand, firmly believed the gods—or Zeus at least—had abandoned the Illéas.

"My lord Hermes, it is an honor," Augustus declared reverently.

"Zeus sent me," Hermes explained. "We have a bit of a problem, Augustus."

Maximus saw his father's face pale. "A problem, my Lord—?"

"Things aren't exactly running smoothly around here, are they?" Hermes frowned, glancing around the throne room.

Augustus opened and closed his mouth a few times before he began to stammer, "There are no problems that we can't handle—"

"Unfortunately, we're no longer convinced you can handle them," Hermes sighed. "The gods have decided there will be a Selection."

Augustus immediately bowed his head, though Maximus knew his father must have been seething. The Selection usually began the curtain call on the prior ruler's reign.

Inside, Maximus was panicking. He was young for a Selection—only twenty-two. His father hadn't hosted his until he was thirty. He'd thought he had years left. Even worse, if the gods were already displeased with the ruling family, how could he possibly turn that around?

But he forced himself to speak up. "I would be honored, Lord Hermes."

"Yes, yes," Hermes noted dismissively, "You haven't let me get to the best part yet though."

It was Maximus's mother, Queen Delia, who spoke. As she did, Maximus could tell she was trying to channel every ounce of charm that her mother, Aphrodite, had imbued her with to appease the seemingly impatient god. "What other news are the gods so gracious to share with us, my Lord?" she asked.

"We're not convinced you're quite the right people to do the job anymore," Hermes declared. "But luckily, we have options."

Maximus felt like the wind had been knocked out of his chest. Augustus must have felt similarly because he demanded, "What do you mean?" before he could help himself.

"There is a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Hades," Hermes said. "Benedict Something-or-other and Elysia."

He exchanged a look with his father. It sounded incredulous. Demigod children were tracked very carefully. In all the years of Illéa, there had never been a child of Poseidon or Hades.

"You're to invite them to the palace," Hermes continued, "and they are going to be joint hosts of the Selection. At the end, we gods are going to pick who the next king and queen are. Should be awfully good fun."

"So!" Hermes clapped his hands together and rose from the throne. "Get those invites out. We expect you to treat them with the utmost hospitality, or you'll have Poseidon and Hades to deal with. We're finalizing our demigod picks in a fortnight."

Augustus seemed to recover from his shock and bowed again. Hermes gave Lyra one more wink before his winged shoes carried him from the room.

Maximus didn't wait for anyone to speak. Instead, he made his way for the door. "Where are you going?" Augustus called after him.

He shrugged but couldn't respond. He wasn't sure, honestly. But it felt like all of his worst nightmares had just come true.

* * *

Elysia had always had a complicated relationship with her father. It started, she supposed, with the loss of her mother. Sometimes it was so hard to remember, because it was so long ago. It was before the pact—a pact that Hades had technically not broken.

Her mother always said that it was auspicious that she was born on January 1, 1925. Elysia wasn't sure whether it was true or not, but she did like that there were always celebrations on her birthday. She liked that it was a day that made people happy.

Truthfully, all Elysia had ever wanted was to bring joy to those around her. But for most of her life, she had done just the opposite.

She hadn't always known that she was a child of Hades. Her mother hadn't always known. Her mother knew her father was married when she was conceived, but she had told Elysia that they had been in love. The absence of her father for the majority of her childhood hadn't convinced Elysia of this.

Still, he gave her her name. "Elysia, for the Elysian fields, untouched by sorrow."

The irony wasn't lost on Elysia now.

"I have news."

The reappearance of her father tore her from her musing. "You're going on a trip," Hades informed her.

"To Aeaea?" she asked hopefully.

He frowned. "Elysia, we've talked about this," he countered. "It's not safe for you on Aeaea."

It hadn't been safe for her in London after her mother's death. Then it hadn't been safe for her in Aeaea after Apollo had visited his old friend Circe and discovered her. It wasn't safe for her in the Underworld, where she faced the constant ire of her stepmother, Persephone.

"Where am I going?" she asked, emotionlessly.

"To Illéa," Hades announced.

She frowned at the unfamiliar name. "Uh, I believe it was 'America' in your day," he explained.

"Why will I be safe there if I wasn't safe in London?" she asked.

Hades took a seat beside her on the couch she had been reading on. "Because Zeus knows now," he explained.

It was interesting news for her. She had spent her life in fear of such a thing happening. The pact had been entered into shortly after her birth, which was why Hades was so adamant to keep her a secret. He didn't want Zeus to target her, to attempt to eliminate a potential threat.

But now, she couldn't tell what she felt. Hades told her it was a side effect of living in the Underworld as a mortal—emotions were dulled. "Is that bad?" she asked.

"It could have been, but things could not be going more in our favor," Hades countered. "They've decided to host a Selection."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It's this stupid human tradition," he explained. "Each god picks one of their demigod offspring to compete to marry the prince, who is a descendant of Zeus. It's their attempt at fortifying the bloodline, but it's failing miserably."

"So I'm to enter this Selection?" she surmised.

She had no interest in being married. But she did have an interest in leaving the Underworld, in perhaps getting to finally live her life. She had been frozen in limbo for far too long.

Hades jumped to his feet, exhilarated. "Even better," he countered with a grin. His smiles always seemed more like smirks to Elysia. "You're one of the hosts."

"One of?" Her face reflected her confusion.

"Unsurprisingly, Poseidon couldn't help himself," Hades sneered. "He has a demigod son. I have a demigod daughter. All Zeus has is a hardly divine line that has steered their country into the ground."

"I don't understand," she admitted. "And I still don't see how this Illéa is safer than Aeaea."

"They're going to decide whether the current royal family can continue to rule," Hades explained, "or they're going to pick you or Poseidon's son."

She frowned. "I don't want to rule anything."

Hades smiled. "Sometimes, those are the best people to rule." He paused before he added, "If you win, Elysia, you'll finally be safe. Zeus couldn't possibly attack a person so favored by the rest of the gods. You can live out your life in Illéa."

She stared into the fireplace as she considered the offer. She didn't want to languish in the Underworld for the rest of her life. Unlike on Aeaea, she would still age in the Underworld, so life could quite possibly pass her by if she stayed long enough. But she had grown so accustomed to life on Circe's island and the sorceress's warnings that she was almost frightened.

"Are humans better now?" she asked. "Terrible things were happening when I was in London."

"No," Hades admitted, "but you can help them to be."

She considered it and finally nodded. "I will try."

* * *

It was early, but early mornings had always been Ben's favorites.

He liked the farm best before everyone was awake. The quiet stillness of the barns in the morning calmed him. The crisp bite of the Kent autumn air energized him. Most of all, he liked being able to enjoy his time without anyone bossing him around.

Ben tried not to complain about being a Seven. He always made sure to count the things that he was grateful for: he had the best mother in the world, and despite his caste, he liked his job. He was a stable hand, but he was lucky that the family of Fours that he worked for was very kind. They'd given his mother a job inside the house as a cook even though Sevens were generally relegated to outside work, and they had always been kind to Ben.

But sometimes he imagined what his life would be like if things were different. He imagined owning the horse racing farm that he worked on, getting to make the decisions. He liked to think that he would be good at it.

"Good morning, you," he smiled at a bay horse that had been his reason for getting up so early that morning. The horse had arrived a few weeks ago and had caused nothing but trouble ever since: already, the young colt had thrown three riders, had chewed his food bucked off the wall of his stall, and was gaining a reputation as a general terror.

Terrors were where Ben excelled.

The horse watched his carefully as Ben collected a lead and approached his stall. He seemed more trustworthy of Ben than he had been of the other grooms, which was what the boy had hoped would happen.

Ben didn't think he had many talents. He supposed he was fairly intelligent for his caste, as Mr. Haverfield—the owner of Haverfield Acres where Ben lived and worked—had always encouraged him to read and often sent books his way once he was finished with them. He could shine leather well. He was strong, though he did little to encourage this other than his everyday work.

But there were two areas where he knew he excelled, and was proud of it: horses and swimming.

He'd never taken swimming lessons—his mother couldn't afford them, of course—but he was a natural at it. He could hold his breath for what he thought was longer than average, and he could swim without tiring for hours, against any current.

And horses, well, he'd always had this silly feeling that he could just understand them. Know what they needed. And they seemed to be willing to obey his instructions, too.

The terror, unfittingly called Archie, willingly followed Ben out of his stall. "See, that's not so bad," Ben said. "We're just gonna get you used to your new home."

They walked past the pastures, past the training track, towards the trails. Ben chose his favorite, choosing to walk along a creek that ran through the property. He didn't say much but instead just relished in the feeling of accomplishment that walking calmly with the seemingly wild horse gave him.

They walked long enough for the sun to rise. Ben sighed as the dawn turned into a true morning. "We should get back," he frowned. He paused and leaned down to grab a handful of pebbles. He tossed one into the creek to make it skip.

It did. Successfully. He supposed he could add pebble skipping to his list of talents.

"Now try to be good today," he told the horse as they neared the barn. "It'll make things a lot easier for you and everyone else."

Ben thought he saw the horse roll its eyes. _Horses don't do that, dummy_, he chided himself.

When they stepped into the barn, he slowed when he saw Mr. Haverfield waiting by the horse's stall with another man who was dressed in a suit and looked like he meant business. Ben slowed. He'd never gotten in trouble for taking a horse out before, but technically, his job was to clean the stables. It would be just his luck that the owner would show up while he was gone.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Haverfield," he greeted nervously. "I was just taking Archie out to get him used to the farm a little, I'm putting him back right now."

"That's fine, Ben," Mr. Haverfield replied with a tight smile. "This is Mr. Waters. He needs to talk with you and your mother."

Once Archie was back in his stall, Ben followed the men back to Mr. Haverfield's house. The apartment that Ben shared with his mother was incredibly small for the two of them, let alone the addition of Mr. Waters, so Mr. Haverfield offered his dining room for the meeting.

Ben's mom was waiting for them when they walked into the dining room, and Ben could tell from the look on her face that she recognized Mr. Waters. His confusion only grew when Mr. Waters greeted his mom by name. "Lillian Workman."

"They know?" she asked, her voice shakey.

Mr. Waters nodded. "The gods have decided there is to be a Selection."

"Uh, that's great, but not really our concern," Ben pointed out. "There's kind of a prince on the other side of the country that might find that a lot more interesting."

"Watch your tone, boy," Waters glared.

"He's sorry, Lord Triton," Lillian interjected for her son.

"Triton?" Ben's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Like the god?"

Lillian took Ben's hand. "Ben, we need to talk about your father," she whispered.


End file.
